


Cathedral

by Jaye_Valentine, Reno_MacLeod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Incest, M/M, Paranormal, Religious Themes, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Valentine/pseuds/Jaye_Valentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reno_MacLeod/pseuds/Reno_MacLeod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-apocalyptic, post-series postulation.  SPOILERS through episode 5.09, "The Real Ghostbusters." The authors take no responsibility for future spoilers that may evolve as a result of this story being "kripked."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cathedral

 

_____________

He stood on Wisconsin Avenue under dark skies, studying the once-beautiful western façade of the building.

The twin towers loomed two-hundred-and-some-odd feet overhead, the buff-colored Indiana limestone composition now a gruesome combination of dark green and black from moss and mildew. Lightning pierced thick black clouds above him. Thunder rumbled the buckled concrete under his feet. Torrential rains hadn't stopped since the last of the angels had been captured nearly a year ago.

He'd had his choice of where to take up permanent residence, of course, now that he owned the planet. His closest minions had recommended the Vatican, but he'd never been a fan of either Italian Renaissance architecture or the ostentatious excess of the Roman Catholic Church. While not to the scale of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, this church—the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, colloquially known as the Washington National Cathedral—better suited his personal taste. He figured if God were still lurking about the cosmos somewhere, God would take it as a personal affront for the grandest place ever built by man for God's glorification to be passed over as sub-par, unsuitable real estate by the eventual victor.

Rain fell, a bolt of lightning brightened the gloom, and thunder rattled the concrete. He chuckled. Armageddon hadn't been so bad after all, his only remaining regret that he hadn't started the process sooner.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he turned his head to look. An interesting choice Ruby had made in selecting his final earth-born body for permanent possession. He'd instructed Ruby to choose wisely. The other two bodies Ruby had taken over before the Great War had been no more to his liking than the pretty, frilly basilica in Rome.

Like the building rising before him into the tumultuous, stormy skies, the final human shell chosen by his most loyal servant consisted of sharp, clean lines covering a sturdy frame. A masculine face shadowed with fine stubble, a short mop of perpetually bed-tousled dark brown hair, and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen complimented the packaging. A shame in life that pretty container had been wasted on such a humdrum, inconsequential human.

Ruby smiled at him from inside the angel Castiel's former vessel. "We've received word from your legions in the Amazon rainforest; the last of the indigenous human populations of hunter-gatherers was eradicated this morning. We took the final remaining village in Papua New Guinea last night. There are no more un-contacted tribes remaining on the planet."

So-called civilized man had been easy to physically corral and frighten into submission. The more primitive, stone age-like denizens of the world hadn't been nearly as compliant. They'd fought back tooth and nail, using powerful magic long forgotten even by heaven's former occupants. 

"Very good," he said with a nod. "It's time. Make sure we're prepared inside, and then summon him."

"What about Castiel?" Ruby cocked his head.

Still jarring to feel Ruby's powerful, evil essence emanating from Castiel's former human body, but in a good way. A _very_ good way.

The owner of the physical body he himself now occupied had coveted Castiel's former shell. Although the soul of Sam Winchester lingered only in fleeting glimpses flashing behind his eyes migraine-like, he still felt the powerful attraction Sam had for both angelic Castiel and the demon Ruby. Together, Ruby's beautifully corrupt soul and Castiel's most-favored vessel provided him with the perfect consort.

"For the time being, I rather like Castiel as he is," he said, snorting a soft laugh. "There's something poetic about the winged being wheelchair-bound."

Ruby smiled. "And Michael's temporary vessel, as we discussed? Have you decided yet?"

He slid an arm around Ruby's strong shoulders. "I thought it might be fun to let Dean choose. It's logical that Dean will be more likely to accept Michael entering him if we inflict enough pain and suffering on a temporary human vessel Dean selects himself. Humans become so attached to each other so easily. Dean won't be able to bear the psychological trauma of seeing harm come to a body he has selected, even if it's someone he doesn't know." He chuckled. "Dean can't even pick a live lobster from a restaurant tank without agonizing over eating it later. He'll feel responsible, even though on an intellectual level he'll know the essence of that person is buried so deep it barely continues to exist."

Ruby stopped and stepped in front of him, baring his way as they approached the ivy-covered cathedral doors. Lips hot with the heat of hell's flames licked at his mouth, and he took Ruby in a hard, brutal kiss. Yes, yes, what a wonderful decision to store Ruby for eternity in the lovely body of the late Jimmy Novak. Ruby's cunning, strength, and passion in the hot body of a gorgeous man had been a stroke of genius.

He broke the kiss. "You captivate me, my dark one."

"And you honor me, my Morning Star." Ruby took his hand.

Lucifer, now fully in command of Sam Winchester's body and soul, led Ruby inside the great cathedral. Dean Winchester would be arriving soon, and Lucifer had plans to execute a suitable and gracious welcome.

It seemed the brotherly thing to do, after all.

* * * * *

Dean trudged along between the four demons, arms bound, a collar of steel biting into his neck. The demons weren't taking any chances. Dean—the last of the resistance fighters and apparently still considered Public Enemy Number One—had eluded them for a year. But Dean had grown tired. The last few weeks he'd gotten sloppy; the collar around his neck provided tangible proof of that fact. Worse, he no longer cared. As they poked and prodded him up the hill toward the once-glorious cathedral, the rain poured down on them. Dean caught a quick glimpse of his dark-circled eyes and the bruises on his face in a puddle of rain before he put his foot in it. 

The bruises on his face were nothing compared to the marks on his soul. 

This felt like the long walk, the gait a man adopted when he knew these were the last steps he'd ever take. Dean had lost. Mankind had lost. There'd been no valiant rescue, no stay of execution from God in the final hour. Castiel had failed to locate God and Dean had been taken, screaming. 

As Dean looked up at the massive doors of the cathedral, he wondered if he'd ever learn Castiel's fate. 

"Miss you, damn angel," he muttered under his breath, the whisper stolen away by a rumble of thunder. 

Word had apparently spread of his arrival. Demons gathered just inside the doors to catch a glimpse of the notorious Dean Winchester and his fall from grace. The demon audience moved back as the five individuals moved forward, parting like the Red Sea. Dean put his head down. He couldn’t bear to look into their pitch black, soulless eyes. Defeated, he followed without resistance. 

Once past the demonic welcoming committee, Dean looked up and saw they'd entered the main sanctuary of the cathedral. If the building had looked appropriately Gothic and gloomy from the outside, the interior ratcheted the creepy atmosphere factor up quite a few notches. Lit torches lined the walls, flames crackling and licking at stone and mortar. Brass candle standards towered at the end of each pew, tiny flames flickering. Small fire pits fashioned from pieces of broken statues of the saints warmed clutches of gathered demons. The last of the world's power grids had gone down more than half a year ago. Cell phones and other distance transmissions had also gone the way of the dinosaur, snuffed out when a pesky little meteor called Wormwood took out the last controlling satellite before wiping the Middle East off the map. 

Albert Einstein had once said, "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones," and damn if he hadn't been right. All technology had been destroyed or had fizzled out within the span of a few short months. 

His demonic escorts tugged Dean to one side, pulling him down a long corridor running parallel to the main aisle of the cathedral, separated from the pews only by arched columns of stone. Between the columns angels were shackled, their arms and legs stretched wide, their bodies being used for the carnal pleasures of various demons, like some sort of obscene angelic harem. Although not necessarily occupying the same human vessels as before, Dean recognized them nonetheless. Anna, Uriel, Zachariah, many others he'd met too fleetingly to recall names.

Dean lowered his gaze to the floor. The complement of demons herded him through the despicable throng until he emerged onto the crossing of the nave of the vast church. Dean looked up.

Sam—or what had once been Sam—sat on the stairs leading up to the high altar, shuffling a deck of playing cards. At his side, a very familiar face. 

"You're not Castiel!" Dean lunged forward, surprising his keepers after such a well-behaved walk of quiet submission.

Castiel's former vessel rolled his eyes. "You're slipping, Dean. You used to be able to recognize me instantly no matter what meatsuit I was wearing at the time." Jimmy Novak's eyes glanced down at the body and grinned, and then he looked up at Dean, hands outspread. "I seem to recall you kind of had a thing for this hot little piece of ass."

"Ruby." Dean felt old, seething anger rush into his bloodstream. "See, that's the thing with you parasites—you just don't get it. Yeah, I had a thing for Cas. I liked his innocence. I liked his dumb expressions when he was confused about something. I liked the determination in his eyes even when deep down he knew it was useless. The body you're freeloading in has none of that now." 

"I can be whatever you want me to be, Dean. Demure, geeky, childlike, mildly retarded if that's what turns you on. Anything you want." Ruby ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "I wouldn't mind that notch on my belt, having fucked _both_ the brothers responsible for the fall of mankind. Come on, Dean, just one little tumble? Pretty please?" Ruby threw back his head and laughed, the booming bass sound echoing off the vaulted stone ceiling.

Dean turned his attention to Lucifer despite the torture of seeing him in Sam's image. "So you finally got me. Bet you've been grinning your ass off ever since you got word I'd been caught."

"Sit down and shut up, Ruby." Lucifer cut the deck of cards repeatedly in one hand until Ruby complied and sat next to him on the altar steps. He looked up at Dean, wrinkled his nose, and shrugged. "I take no pleasure in seeing a strong man broken, Dean Winchester. I'd hoped by now you'd recognize the futility of fighting your destiny. The planet is in decay, and the herd of mindless beasts formerly known as mankind has been thinned to a manageable number. There's nothing left for you to save. I want my brother in his intended vessel so we can end this senseless feud." 

Dean smirked. "Why? You have everything. You won. What difference does it make if you kick your brother's ass now or kiss it?" Dean rolled his head back, the vertebrae of his neck cracking audibly. "See, thing is, I want to see _my_ brother too, but you stole that from me. I'm not feeling overly charitable at the moment."

Lucifer patted Ruby on the knee. "Leave us. Prepare the temporary vessels for my brother in the Resurrection Chapel downstairs."

Ruby cocked his head. "You haven't told me yet which ones should be used for the line-up."

"You know him better than I, my dark one," Lucifer said, reaching out to brush Ruby's stubbly cheek with the back of his hand. "Select those closest to him. Perhaps include one of the Harvelle women, but I leave the decision to you. Now, go."

After a quick nuzzle against Sam's…Lucifer's hand, Ruby hurried off.

Lucifer leaned back casually on his elbows on the small set of low-rise stairs. "Let him go," he said with a nod to the four demons restraining Dean. "Attend to Ruby."

With a bow the demons left, leaving Dean still collared and chained but otherwise free and mostly unharmed.

"I think you misunderstand," Lucifer said. "A lot has changed in the year since we last met. I want to make peace with my brother Michael. I've had…well; let's just say I've had a change of heart. It has come to my attention that Michael was forced into what he did to me by an uncaring, unyielding being who had the audacity to call himself a god, _the_ God. A puppeteer of so many innocent marionettes, the cause of so much grief and destruction and horror, all by him who dares to call himself the One True God."

Lucifer chuckled, and the accompanying smile deepened the dimples in his cheeks and _fuck_, did he look like Sam again. "I want to make amends with my brother and restore Paradise for all who remain. We can co-exist in peace and repair this broken, abandoned world, but not unless the current cycle is completed. Once again, Dean Winchester, the fate of the world rests on your narrow, tired shoulders. I suggest you don't fuck it up this time." 

"And I'm supposed to believe that? That after all this, you're just gonna shake hands and let bygones be bygones?" Dean shook his head and smirked. "If you really wanted to make this world a better place for all, you could start by letting Castiel go. Call it a show of good faith." 

"Believe what you want to believe, Dean. If nothing else, your own free will remains intact. If I had the ability to force you to accede, why would I be jumping through hoops like a circus poodle to acquire your consent?" Lucifer sighed and set the deck of the cards beside him on the step. He flipped over the top card to face up: the king of hearts. 

A sad smile crossed what had been Sam's handsome face and Lucifer looked at Dean. 

"Castiel is _fine_, albeit somewhat less mobile and a bit more irritable than usual," Lucifer said. "I may be more powerful than the rest, Dean Winchester, but even so I'm incapable of outright killing my brethren. You'll see him once the proceedings begin. I want my beloved brother back, just as you do yours. I love Michael, as you do Sam. There's no reason why we cannot share space in the vastness of eternity so we _both_ get what we most want." 

Dean did all he could to keep the tears he felt forming from falling. Lucifer looked like Sam. He sounded like Sam. Fuck, he even moved like Sam. It would be so easy to pretend, and God be damned, he was so tired of being alone. 

"How much of Sam is still in there, Luci?" Dean stuck his chin out proudly, tears successfully pulled back. "If I let Michael in, I'm nothing, right? Like riding in the trunk of a car, even if it is technically still my ride."

"See, that's the problem with you humans." Adjusting the waist of his crisp white slacks, Lucifer stretched out Sam's long, muscular legs before rising to his feet. He walked toward Dean, stopping just shy of the toes of their boots touching. "You assume far too much. You jump to conclusions before seeking out proof and hard facts for yourselves. Worse, you allow the opinions of those who proclaim themselves experts to take the place of the highly attuned, emotional lizard brain you were born with." He took another half step closer to Dean, the tips of their boots bumping, the unmistakable smell of Sam penetrating Dean's olfactory sense with the power of a sharp and wholly unanticipated kick to the _solar plexus_.

Eyes—_Sam's_ eyes, damn it—gazed deep and unrelenting into Dean's very soul. "Look at me, Dean, and _tell_ me you can't feel him, feel his presence wafting from me, the core of what he was, what he _is_ and always shall be. You _tell_ me that, Dean Winchester, and you can walk out the door right now, and I'll give you my word—promised with a spill of blood, if you insist—that I'll never darken your doorstep again. I'll leave you in peace, I swear on my own existence." 

Dean stood his ground. He could leave. He could run away and hide like he had been since the day Sam had given in and said yes to Lucifer, but for what? Everything Dean had ever cared about stood in front of him, and whether Sam survived in there or not didn't matter at this stage of the game. Nothing else remained for Dean live for—or die for. He felt a trickle of warmth run down his cheeks and hated himself for it. "Can he see me? Does he even _know_ I'm here?"

"He knows," Lucifer said with a soft smile. "The staccato stutter of this heartbeat, the butterfly flutter in this belly, the hot blood flowing into this penis and stiffening it tells me so, with absolutely no measure of uncertainty." Lucifer grinned and tapped Dean on the end of the nose with the tip of his index finger. "He's here, whole and intact and fairly _screaming_ to get out, make no mistake. He misses you, Dean Winchester, and rest assured his dire and painful longing for you is the sole reason for my current display of patience." 

The tap to his nose had seemed so very Sam, but only one thing for certain would convince Dean that Sam's soul lingered. "Kiss me. Kiss me, and if I feel Sam and not you, I'll agree."

Lucifer placed the palms of Sam's hands on both sides of Dean's face and leaned in for a kiss.

Dean tasted familiarity on his tongue, felt teeth nipping with just the perfect amount of aggression, licking just so, sucking so right, reluctant biting, hesitant and lingering. Even though they'd ventured there only once before, Dean knew Sam would know the perfect way to kiss him. He just knew, in the pit of gut. He knew.

Pulling back with Dean's face still trapped between the palms of his hands, Lucifer said, "Tell me _now_ if you doubt he's in here. Tell me _now_ that you didn't just feel him, feel your Sam. The door is open for you to escape all this, Dean, no harm and no foul."

Dean heard a sad, tired, painful creaking sound behind him. The huge double doors leading from the rear of the cathedral nave onto Wisconsin Avenue were laid wide open, inviting and tempting and beckoning. 

Only the span of a heartbeat proved necessary for Dean to decide. He reached for Sam, cupping Sam's face and driving a kiss between them. So good, so right to feel Sam again, to know exactly where Sam's tongue would go, to know exactly how long the kiss would last. Dean felt Sam in there, screaming out to him. He pressed his hands to the perfectly tailored white shirt, gripped it and tore it open with a year's worth of pent-up frustration. "Once, like this. Once before I let Michael take control."

Lucifer chuckled. "I always suspected your love for Sam ran somewhat much deeper than merely brotherly. Perhaps you and I, Dean Winchester, aren't so very different after all." The white jacket, and then the torn white dress shirt fell to the stone floor of the cathedral. Bare skin, rippled muscles, too familiar.

Apparently Lucifer noticed the distressed look on Dean's face. "I'll make you an offer," Lucifer said. "I'll allow your Sammy close to the surface. So close, so fucking close you won't know he's ever been buried at all. In exchange, I want your full cooperation with the next phase of my plan. You'll come out ahead, regardless. A benefit of being The Chosen One." 

Jaw clenched, Dean had already decided he'd do whatever Lucifer wanted. "Do it." 

Lucifer seemed to melt away from Sam's visage until all that remained was one hundred percent pure Sam.

"Dean?" The sad, intelligent, puppy-dog face seemed authentic enough, but Dean needed more proof.

"Sam?" Dean stepped forward, heart racing, breath caught somewhere in his throat. He pressed his hand over the sun-encircled pentagram tattooed on Sam's chest, running his finger around the outline. "What's it like in there, Sammy?" Dean looked up, his nose pressed to Sam's cheek. "I miss you _so_ much."

"I miss you, too." Sam butted his forehead against Dean's, pure Sam, _all_ Sam now, nothing left of the beast that Dean could ascertain. Sam glanced at Dean's hand fondling the tattoo on his chest, and then lifted his gaze to Dean's eyes. "I want to see yours, too. That was a good day we had when we got them, wasn't it? I never want to forget." Sam chuckled. "You whimpered like a little girl with a skinned knee."

Dean nodded, mindlessly unbuttoning his shirt. "He can do this? He can let you come to the surface like this?" If Sam were able to come this close, Dean would do all he could to kiss up to Michael for the same privilege. Maybe all wasn't quite lost after all. Dean dropped his shirt to the floor and moved his hands down to his belt. 

"He can do anything he wants," Sam said, helping Dean off with the belt. The belt's brass catches hit the stone floor of the cathedral with a clatter, the leather producing a quieter thud. Sam's big hands came to rest on Dean's hips. "I wish we would have owned up to this sooner. God, we wasted so much time."

"Yeah. Well, we never did anything the easy way." Dean forced a wary smile he didn't really feel. "I'm going to do it, Sam. I have no idea what'll happen when I do, but nothing else has worked. I've run out of options, and I need you. Even if we just get a few minutes together here and there." Dean ran his thumb down the center of Sam's chest. When he reached Sam's pants he popped them open, grabbed the edges of the waistband and shoved the pants down with determination. 

"Dean," Sam said, "I've wanted you for so long, so bad. Most of this is my fault, I know, but I hope _you_ know how much I love you." 

"I think I always knew, Sammy. I was just too bullheaded to say something. There were so many times I came close but chickened out." The last of their garments joined the pool of clothing already on the floor. Dean found himself staring at Sam, mesmerized by the strong beauty of his brother, afraid even then to make the first move. 

"This is me, Dean." Sam's body, Sam's facial expressions, Sam's voice. "He's strong, trying to hold me back, but I'm still here." Sam's gaze traveled over Dean's body, and he smiled. "Still here, and never going to let you go without one hell of a fight." 

Emotions exploded within Dean. He broke, crashing into Sam, lips, hands, and hips connecting so hard he thought he might've knocked Lucifer right out of Sam's body. Growling, he walked Sam backward and up the steps to the altar.

Sam got that look on his face, the one when things had gotten so bad it was all he could do to fight back tears and not break down. Jaw muscles visibly tightened and twitched, his lower lip trembled, and the slight tremor of fingers telegraphed fear and longing and remorse where Sam's hands touched Dean's bare chest. Sam leaned back against the stone table at the high altar.

"It's all over, isn't it, Dean?" Sam's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. "We lost."

Dean placed a finger against Sam's lips, and then replaced the touch with his mouth as their bodies came together. Flashes of their past filtered through Dean's mind: the countless nights in shabby motel rooms, the long countrywide drives with nothing but Sam and the Impala's roaring radio to keep him going, the tender moments after a kill when he and Sam drank until they could barely see while they patched each other up for the thousandth time.

"Only if we let it be," Dean whispered, praying to God that Lucifer wasn't able to hear. He gripped Sam's cock in his hand and brushed the head with one full sweep of his thumb.

Sam's eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a soft gasp. "I can't tell you how many times I've thought of us like this. This can't be the end, Dean; otherwise what's the purpose of anything? I can't believe God could be so ugly and cruel when belief in him has brought this world so many wonderful things." Sam opened his eyes and lowered a hand to grasp Dean's cock. "Don't leave me trapped in this hell by myself, Dean. If everything else is already lost, maybe it's time we were selfish for a change. He's telling the truth that he'll let us be together sometimes, that he and Michael won't shut us down completely. Don't ask me how I know, but he's not lying. Fuck, Dean, you feel so damn good." 

Dean gave Sam a quick, eyes-bright smile, the smile he knew melted Sam's heart—the old carefree, fuck-what-anyone-else-thinks Dean. 

"Nothing ever happens by accident, Sam, remember that," Dean said between desperate kisses, feeling himself thicken in Sam's hand. He looked around, glad to find them completely alone. Apparently Lucifer was confident enough in his control of Sam to leave them totally without chaperone. 

Lucifer's mistake. 

Dean crawled between Sam and pulled those long legs up and around his waist, leaning Sam back further on the stone table. Neither Sam nor Lucifer offered resistance. 

"He must not be watching," Dean said. "I can't imagine Lucifer ever allowing himself to be topped."

"You might be surprised." Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "I've woken up a few times surrounded by the aftermath of his indulgences. Seems the rumors of Lucifer being a dedicated hedonist are pretty accurate. I don't think he'd mind at all being fucked by you." Sam kissed Dean hard then whispered, "Neither would I." 

Dean didn't like the sound of that, knowing Lucifer roiled just under the surface and could switch Sam out at anytime. But Dean took the chance, not knowing if another would ever come. He hoped he'd struck enough fear with his resistance to take Michael in for Lucifer to stick to the bargain and leave Sam in control. "I love you, Sam. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow. I don’t know what the world will be like, but I wanted you to hear from my own lips that I love you." 

Dean spit on his fingers and slipped his hand down along Sam's belly. He smiled when Sam jerked from the first intimate touch. Dean nuzzled Sam's mouth and pushed his finger through the tight grip of Sam's hole.

"Oh God, Dean," Sam moaned, and it took a few seconds before Dean felt comfortable pushing his finger in deeper. When he did, Sam moaned again and Dean felt Sam's soft insides flutter. "Dean, do it. Fuck me like we'll never get another chance. I don't want to disappear forever without having done this. I love you so goddamn much, and I never knew how to let you know. I'm so"—Sam's voice choked—"I'm so sorry I fought you so hard."

Sam's pleading tone tugged at the depths of Dean's soul. He wanted to tell Sam everything would be okay, that he'd found some miracle cure for the madness the world had fallen into, but he couldn’t get Sam's hopes up. 

"I'm sorry, too," Dean said. "I was hard on you. I did the same thing Dad did—I pushed you away. The last few weeks…Sam, I did so much thinking. I broke down. I had my darkest hour." Dean curled his finger inside Sam, stroking him gently, watching as Sam's eyes rolled back with the bolt of pleasure Dean had wanted to give him for so long. He wanted to play with Sam like this for hours, but he knew time was limited. He withdrew his finger and guided his ready cock to Sam's hole. "You're my salvation, Sammy."

"Better hurry, Dean," Sam said, the fear in his eyes evident. "He's coming back soon; I can feel it." 

Jaw set, Dean nodded and pushed forward to sink himself deep into Sam. He gasped, the heat and tightness he'd longed for wrapping around him with a comforting grip. Dean took hold of Sam's wrists and pushed them up over Sam's head. Chest to chest, he moved inside Sam, locking their bodies tightly together. "Please, just a few minutes longer!"

"Oh fuck, Dean!" Sam's hips surged forward and Dean sank inside Sam deeper, the burst of pleasure close to overwhelming. "Don't forget me." 

And with that Sam closed his eyes, and when they reopened Sam no longer gazed back at Dean. Lucifer rolled his hips, a lascivious grin on his face. "Pity you boys didn't try this sooner. Feels good, doesn't it, _big brother_?"

Such up-close-and-personal, intimate proximity with Lucifer jarred Dean and sent his head reeling, even though he'd fully expected Lucifer to go back on his word. So close now, Dean wanted to finish, needed to finish. "You son-of-a-bitch. So this is how it's going to be? Yeah, it feels good, but not half as good as it will." Dean slammed his hips against Lucifer, grinding himself in deep. Sam's body pulsed around him, begging him, urging him on. Dean strengthened his hold on Lucifer's wrists. "Tell me you want me to come inside you, Lucifer."

"Sad, sad little man," Lucifer said. "You had so little confidence in yourself you pretended to be a womanizer all your adult life, because what you _really_ wanted was your baby brother's fine ass." Dean felt slick, smooth muscles around his cock gripping impossibly tight, rippling and undulating in a most inhuman way, bringing him treacherously close to the edge. "Oh, fuck yes, I want you to come inside me, big brother. Do it, sinner. Spill your vile, incestuous seed inside me, Dean Winchester. One more thing for me to hold over _my_ dear brother's pretty head once he's taken possession of you." 

"Yeah, you're right. I always was a coward when it came to my feelings for Sam. I let that fear drive us apart, and it gave you _freaks_the advantage. But I've finally seen the light." Dean gasped, the coil of pleasure knotting his belly seconds from snapping. He pushed Sam's thighs to his chest, trapping Sam's body under his own. "And now I'm going to show it to you."

Lucifer froze and stared at Dean with wary eyes. "What are you talking about?" 

Dean gave himself over to the presence that had kept so silent throughout his capture and delivery. Such a strange sensation to fall back like this and watch his actions as if from over another's shoulder. His eyes closed and then re-opened by another's command. Dean vicariously watched with his own eyes as Lucifer's triumphant expression fell in terror. 

Light splashed down over Dean's sweaty skin. Dean felt butterflies deep in the pit of his belly as he spoke another's words with his own voice. "I find it disheartening that only one of my children had enough faith to come looking for me. Castiel will be well rewarded for his devotion."

Horror melted by slow beats into calm revulsion. "Finish or move away; I don't care which." Lucifer's lips curved into a bitter smile. "_Father_."

"Such a shame, Lucifer," Dean heard his own voice say. "You were once my favorite."

Dean wasn't at all surprised when he also felt his hips start to move again. Even in the brief time during which God had ridden shotgun within, Dean had realized the depth of love God had for his children—_all_ his children, winged and otherwise. God had gone away from them because, though doing so had had saddened God to see his children fight, he knew lessons needed to be learned and over-protective parenting would do no good. God had always intended to come back to them. 

"I may have over-reacted in anger," God said, "hurling you down as I did. I'm taking you and the rest home with me now to start over."

Lucifer met the incoming thrusts wide-eyed. "And you called me prideful? You bastard. You order my wings clipped and me banished from Paradise, and in your cowardice you forced my own _brother_ to do you dirty work. What makes you think I would_want_ to return? Fuck you."

Although Lucifer's words sounded sharp and decisive, Lucifer's lips felt soft and yielding. Dean gripped Lucifer at God's will and quickened the drive of his hips. Lucifer shuddered around him, the sensations of mortal lust not something even the fallen could ignore.

"Don't be so bitter, Lucifer," God said. "I know you want to return. I'm offering you shelter in my house once more. Take it willingly, or I will take you by force. Regardless, your time here on Earth is done." 

Dean gasped. Pleasure rolled through him, a stab of fire in his balls releasing his—or was it God's?—desire.

Sam's thick cock swelled and lurched in response, jetting long ribbons of creamy spunk on Sam's chest and belly as Lucifer spontaneously shot his load. "Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven, as they say. And again I say _fuck_ you. I'll _never_ go with you willingly, and I'll _never_ stop hating you." 

"That is truly a pity, my child, for I will always love you." Dean felt his mouth lower over Sam's, the kiss returned with almost tender restraint as the angry passion in the air began to cool. Dean felt God draw him back, his mouth hovering inches over Sam's. 

God whispered a firm but gentle command. "_Leave him_."

Sam's body went limp, collapsed and fell to the floor with a sickening thud, followed by the sound of soft whimpering coming from a few feet away.

A boy no more than sixteen or seventeen lay nude on the floor, curled up on his side in a fetal position. His long black hair, thick and shiny, splayed out on the white marble floor. Flawless pale skin appeared strangely luminescent, and horrible ridged scars covered his shoulder blades, obvious remnants of where wings had once been.

"Father," Lucifer whispered. "I would not bow to them then, and I never will. End this. End _me_."

With a sudden rush of lightheadedness, Dean's vision swam with the worst hangover imaginable—and then it ended. He found himself dumped to the floor on his ass, looking up at a man taller than any he'd ever seen in his life. Blond hair fell over an eerily androgynous face, eyes of blinding light focused on the shivering form of Lucifer. 

Dean pulled himself together and scrabbled across the floor toward Sam's unmoving body. "Sam? Sam!"

God stepped toward Lucifer. "No. You will not bow to them. You did your job here, as I knew you would. Man had become too ambitious, far too prideful. The herd needed culling." 

Sam started coming to, groaning as he sat up, clutching Dean's arms and shivering. "Dean. Who are—?"

"You had Michael expel me so I would lead this revolution," Lucifer said, "in order to significantly decrease their numbers and keep their blood off your hands." Lucifer rose to his feet, tears welling in luminous green eyes. So young looking, so beautiful. Dean had trouble believing this…this beautiful teenage _boy_ was the devil himself. "You sacrificed me. You had my most beloved brother sever my wings and eject me from Paradise, for them? So you didn't have to smite them personally?" Tears flowed freely down perfect, pale cheeks. "Father, I loved you so much. Why did you despise me so? I did everything you ever asked of me." 

"No, you didn't. Banishing you served the purpose of which you speak, but doing so also took you down off your lofty pedestal. You needed to learn a lesson every bit as much as mankind. But I am not an uncaring parent lacking in compassion." God raised one hand and the air in the sanctuary quaked. 

Dean sheltered Sam, as the walls around them rumbled and the air grew hot. The temperature rose just to the point where breathing became difficult, and then fell to normal again. Dean eased back from Sam and looked toward God and Lucifer. 

Snow-white pinfeathers wafted on drafty air from the wings restored to Lucifer's back when he unfurled and spread them wide. Lucifer smiled, and the radiance emanating from his skin increased in intensity. 

"Thank you, Father," Lucifer said. His attention seemed pulled toward the center aisle of the great cathedral and Dean followed his gaze. An identical angel stood facing the altar with wings spread and arms outstretched.

"Michael," Lucifer and Sam said in stereo. 

"How come we can see and hear them?" Dean asked Sam in a hushed voice. They'd learned early on that to look upon an angel meant instant blindness, and that an angel's true voice caused profound and permanent hearing loss. 

Michael walked down the center aisle with a leisurely gait until he came to stand before God. He dropped to one knee, head bowed. "Father. We knew you would come." 

"No, you did not, my son," God said, a displeased look on his face. "Only one of you chose to believe in me and in my steadfast love. Lucifer, where is Castiel?"

Dean instinctively ran a hand over his left shoulder, over the spot where Castiel's raised, red handprint burned like a blister to this day. 

"He's safe, Father," Lucifer said. "He's in the body of the hunter called Bobby Singer. The one in the wheelchair."

Sam spoke up immediately. "Is Bobby—?"

"Yes," Lucifer said, turning to look at Sam. "Bobby is also fine. He will be back to normal once Castiel is released, just as are you all right."

"Rise, Michael. Rise and attend your brother," God said, and as Michael did so, God rested a hand on Michael's shoulder and spoke in a gentle tone. "Treat him as you did before his fall. This is a time for new beginnings." 

Michael nodded and went to Lucifer, a look of relief and hope unmistakable on both the angels' faces. Dean turned toward Sam, feeling that same emotion deep inside, shocked to see Sam fully dressed in the gray T-shirt, olive-drab jacket, and blue jeans he'd worn when he'd gone missing. Looking down at himself, Dean wasn't all that surprised to find his own clothes back in place.

"I've learned modesty is a virtue after all," said God, answering the unasked question with a soft smile. "Even God is capable of learning from his own mistakes." 

"That's awesome," Dean said, "but you didn't answer my question. Why can Sam and I see and hear the angels without becoming Pinball Wizards?"

"You are able to look upon and hear my other children now," God said, "because both you and Sam have been touched by the pure and holy. You are no longer mortal."

Sam looked as puzzled as Dean felt. "Then…what exactly _are_ we?"

Michael answered. "You and your brother are what you have always been, Sam. Protectors of mankind and destroyers of evil, ordained by God himself." Michael smiled, and Dean squinted against the radiant beauty. "Only now you don't need magical guns and enchanted daggers, and you can't be so easily found or killed."

Lucifer took Michael's hand in his. "And you have family to watch over you now. The war is over. It's time to rebuild." Lucifer looked at Sam and gave a reverent nod. "I'm sorry for using you as I did, but"—Lucifer shifted his gaze from Sam to Dean and smiled—"perhaps something good has resulted from my influence. Take care of each other, and don't be afraid to love each other."

In a blinding flash of light, Lucifer and Michael disappeared.

Alone with God, Dean hauled himself off the floor and helped Sam to his feet. 

Dean dared to fix his gaze on God's luminous eyes. "So, what now?" 

"No angel remained housed within a human being as of the moment I forced Lucifer from Sam. Shortly, all of mankind will be free. Free to rebuild and heal, but they will need guidance as they did long ago. They should be more willing to listen now. You will continue to serve me in this way, and as witnesses to my second coming."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I am _not_ knockin' on people's doors on Saturday mornings and handing out leaflets. Just sayin'." 

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs and gave his head a quick shake. "Well, it's going to take a while for me to wrap my head around all this." He sighed. "What about the demons? The place has been crawling with them for the past year."

"I will purge the demons as well," God said, "and return those who were not formerly angels to their original humanity."

"Including Ruby?" Sam asked.

"Yes," God said, "and the bodies the demons and angels have been inhabiting will have their rightful souls restored as well." God walked toward them with slow, precise steps. "I had to pluck my angels away before reconstituting the humans to avoid sensory damage."

"So that's it then?" Dean felt torn between relief and building anger. "You and your people decimate the planet, you kill more than three-quarters of the human population, and now you're just pulling back the troops and leaving us to fend for ourselves?"

God smiled. "I think when you emerge from this building, you will find the planet renewed in ways you can't even begin to imagine or comprehend. Man needed to rewind a bit. No, there won't be iPhones, SUVs, or any other modern conveniences for a long, long time. You may likely surprise yourselves and discover you don't even miss such trappings. I'm giving mankind a chance to relive its early childhood. To focus on one another once again."

"_Homo sapiens_ 2.0?" Sam raised an eyebrow. 

God gave a quick shrug and chuckled. "More like 7.0 by now, but who's counting?"

The pelting rain on the stained glass windows of the church suddenly stopped. Bright sunshine streamed in. Dean could've sworn he heard birds cheerfully chirping.

"Well, I hope to hell you put some trees out there in your new Garden of Eden that we can actually eat from this time," came a gruff, cranky voice, "'cause I'm starving and I hate snakes."

Sam's face lit up, grinning so hard his dimples made a rare appearance. "Bobby!"

Dean followed Sam's line of sight. 

Bobby, in all his irritable, irascible glory, _stood_ at the bottom of the altar stairs, doing that glowering-grinning thing that only Bobby could do. Dean's heart seemed close to bursting and he wondered if this was how joy felt.

Bobby walked up the steps to join them. 

Dean gasped. 

A few paces behind the spot Bobby had vacated stood a creature more beautiful than Dean had ever seen before. 

An angel, with hair the vibrant color of new flames flowing down over his shoulders, moved gracefully forward to stand at the base of the altar steps before Dean. 

The angel cocked his head a few miniscule degrees, squinting blue eyes burning with curiosity and intelligence. "Dean. It would seem I have you to thank for locating the Father. I'm very puzzled, but nonetheless impressed." 

"_Cas_?" Dean, stunned by the new packaging, knew that charmingly bewildered expression like the back of his own hand. "Whoa. This is what you really look like?"

Castiel's brow knit in a bunch, and he checked himself out with a quick, nervous dip of his head before looking up to address Dean again. "You don't like it?"

Smirking, Dean looked at Sam, who raised his hands and shook his head and said, "No comment." 

Dean chuckled and turned back to Castiel. "Oh, I like it. I like it just fine."

The sound of someone pointedly clearing his throat brought attention back to God. 

God sat perched on the altar steps where Lucifer in Sam's body had been at the evening's start, cutting the deck of playing cards with one hand just as Lucifer had been. He picked up the king of hearts card and restored it to the deck.

"I need Castiel to assist with the neutralization of wickedness from the demons as they are expunged from their human hosts," God said, looking at Dean, "but once that task is completed I will return him to you. I wish to reward my loyal Castiel for his brave devotion, and I know his greatest desire is to remain at your side."

Sam's gaze shifted from Dean to Castiel back and forth several times, as if he were watching a tennis match.

"Dean," Sam said, finally locking his focus on Dean. "The _Busty Asian Babes_ fixation was all bullshit. I knew it." 

"_What_?" Dean tried his best to look innocent, but realizing the futility of that pursuit he snapped on a goofy grin. "Oh, well, not entirely. But it threw you off the scent, didn't it?"

Sam laughed. "Not entirely."

"I don't understand." Although Castiel no longer resided in the body of Jimmy Novak—and boy, was this body so not Jimmy Novak's—the facial expressions as well as the choice and cadence of words unmistakably belonged to Castiel. The wrinkled brow, the squinting eyes, the very slight tilt of his head. "Sam, do you mean to say you hadn't realized your brother enjoys the physical company of other males?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, I had my suspicions, but about an hour ago I got proof." 

God rescued Dean from dying of embarrassment from having to answer—a good and merciful deity, indeed. "Castiel, the former residence of the United States President will make a very suitable headquarters. Please go there now and prepare things for Dean and Sam. They'll be along shortly."

"Hey, hey, hey, hold your horses there, Pedro," Bobby said. "If the redheaded bombshell is Castiel in his natural form, how come I haven't gone full-on Helen Keller?" 

Castiel smiled. "Any human who has given consent to let their body become occupied by an angel is immune to the destructive sight and sound of angels forevermore."

Dean hooked his arm around Sam's shoulders and smirked at Bobby. "Dude, you've been touched by an angel. It's not just a sappy TV show anymore."

"That's it," Bobby said, striding with extremely hard, agile steps down the long main aisle of the church. "I need a damn drink." He paused, turning around to shoot a glance in God's direction from halfway down the long walk. "We _can_ still drink, right? Otherwise, you might as well just take me now." 

"Fermentation is a natural process," God said with a grin. "Enjoy in moderation."

"Hey, God," Dean said. "Can I ask you a favor?"

God nodded. 

Dean's bottom lip trembled. "I want my car back, even if it is just a lawn ornament now." 

God closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. "Done."

Sam nudged his shoulder against Dean's. "Let's get out of here. Maybe we can dirty up the Lincoln bedroom before you start working on the car." 

  


~ THE END ~

 

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End file.
